Monday, July 28, 2014

"But will I love both my children the same? Do I have enough to give?"
Nope.
No you do not.
No, you probably will not.
Sure, try to paper over the cracks, pronouncing an abundantly infinite wellspring of unceasing overproduction of total overflowing amor for your children. Both of them, all of them, each of them.
But that there is a canard duck rigamarole flimsy shim sham of some wool sunglasses you've bought there buddy.
I can say this: at least at the outset and unless you sort your priorities out quickly, having children is the most vicious possible attack you could sadistically perpetrate on yourself.
As a surfer.
In New York City.
Now, I'm not proclaiming this some sort of ultimate truth of the ages here.
I'm stopping just a hair's breath away from getting there. But only just.
What I am saying is you'd better get your shit worked out fast, instilling in your child such a burning, gnawing, overwhelming need to be near, in and around the ocean that they will harass, harangue, whine, bellyache and whimper at every possible moment, pleading with you to get them there at all costs.
Otherwise, get ready for a long surfing winter.
I know this from experience.
But I've renewed my vows and upped my ante and I'm hoping to evolve this situation in the right direction.
As for loving both kids the same amount... well, I suppose I don't really know about that... yet.
But if one gets me in the water more than the other, well he may just have a leg up.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

I had about thirty minutes of Cole's time to ask him a handful questions about his process in making his photo book "Talk Story" (launching tonight at PF Gallery). Here are but a few of those few minutes.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Within a couple moments of logging into Facebook today, we were confronted with two videos. On the one hand, a television advert The Inertia claims is "the best surf commercial...a must-see" ironically made by a non-surf brand. On the other, a home video of a jazz band playing When The Saints Go Marching In to a bunch of road-side cows, a video this blog contends is the greatest bit of surf advertising we've come across lately. Also ironically made by a non-surf brand.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Like most of us, Cole Barash grew up on a steady diet of action packed Hawaiian surf imagery. Unlike most of us, he took the chance to explore that scene deeper when given the opportunity. Blending a documentarian's journalistic impulse with an artist's desire to approach things from nontraditional angles, Cole spent a season on the North Shore in the company of a series of mythical characters like the young surfing phenom and North Shore product John John Florence.

On Thursday night Picture Farm Gallery is excited to present the book launch for Talk Story, a body of work that pulls the viewers deeper "behind all the action" in a refreshingly thoughtful way.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

1. Let me first tell you, right off the bat, I'm sorry about high school. For that matter, I'm sorry about junior high. Of course I'm projecting here, but I've found the person is rare whose had a rip roaring time during their awkward adolescence. It is an awful time of cunning insecurity, intense listlessness and excusably mean contemporaries.

2. The American Century is over, as they say. Whatever after-party you might be attending by the time you're old enough to attend it, know that the power has shifted and your country's moment as shining center of the geopolitical cultural universe is a shadow cast by a dead sun. This doesn't mean your country of origin isn't important, it means your country of of origin isn't as important as a bunch of people in your country of origin think it should be.

3. You are hurt. You will be hurt. Everyone is always hurt.

4. If you can be some sort of humorous and adept blend of know-how and know-nothing, you'll have achieved some sort of satisfaction.

7. Honesty, being honest, has nothing to do with truth, or truthfulness. Truth is something else. Truth, like its cousin success, is inaccessible in this lifetime. I suppose you'll figure those things out once you're dead, but by that point it will be too late.

8. Never trust top ten lists, or Best-Of lists. It's something about their inherent passionlessness, or inherent passionateness. One of the two. On the one hand, they are drawn up by academics or intellectuals in said field of listedness who claim not to be moved by said good thingieness. On the other, they are simply a list of subjective preferences trying to pass off as objective authority. Either way, read them, catalogue them, but don't swear by them.

9. If you're humble and then you win, you've won twice, if you're proud and then you lose, you've lost twice. Do the other maths yourself on that one, but... if you aren't ostentatious, if you don't believe in yourself beyond anyone else's expectations, you'll never do a god damn thing. So do that.

10. Surfing is wonderful. It's one of the only things I truly believe in, if you know what I mean. Try to understand that, even when it's difficult.

13. "Don't judge a book by its cover" is one of the most prescient bits of advice ever passed on, however if the person in front of you in the line for the airplane bathroom looks suspiciously like they're going to make the bathroom stink to high heaven, they probably are.

14. The worst things humans do to each other are persecutions in the name of morality. Read as much as possible. Write. Draw. Move. Look. Breathe. These things will help you steer clear of those classic pitfalls.

Inevitably you find the rails a bit too non existent. And along with that the fins and any proportional amount of control you may be used to. Of course you also happen upon the increased float, a key arena of pleasure. In the end it's a bit like riding a plastic toboggan on a slushy hill. The sort of slushy hill that is already exposing clumps of dirt and matted grass thanks to a thankfully early spring, kicking up cold mud and bits of rock. Then there's the gnawing and equally inevitable humility component. You pump yourself up, reminding yourself how many different boards you've ridden in how many different conditions over the years, but there's something about riding around with a nine foot pink softtop on the roof of your car that can't help but take you down a peg. Over the winter in California, I rode nothing but softies for half a month. More as a lark than anything else. From Blacks to Old Mans and nearly everything in between. For the past week, thanks to Ty Breuer, I've been riding nothing but that pink foamy. Less as a lark and more as a proper experiment. And if you've been around Washington or Lafayette the last few days, you'll notice I've been having a ball. I think my quiver finally has its swiss army knife. And so, without further do... help me name my board (in the comments section.)

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

It has been a wild year since the moment this show came down, leaving me with no time to finally get around to the documentary process. At least a little breathing room yesterday got me what I needed to finish this. Patagonia helped fly Naomi out to continue his organic/reuse message, giving him space at the NY and Cardiff shops and showing him around the Ventura HQ. Naomi and Mike got to decamp at Picture Farm to show some work and work some magic. Rad guys.

Monday, July 14, 2014

Tin's got a pretty good track record going, and he's somehow churning the hot hot hits out, shooting on 16mm and travelling the globe in search of friendly times to film. World premiere happening in New York City on the 23rd of this very month. Buy yer tix here.

Join us this year for the 16th ANNUAL RELL SUNN SURF CONTEST & BENEFIT on Saturday, August 2nd at Ditch Plains in Montauk. (Rain date/No Wave date will be Sun. Aug. 3rd) This event, hosted by the East End Foundation (a local 501-c that raises money for local families in need), includes an all-day surf contest, t-shirt sales, art auction and raffle.

This community SURF CONTEST is a fun-filled day with divisions for ALL riders including longboard, shortboard, menehunes, bodyboard and SUP surf. Even if you've NEVER competed before, this is a good, safe environment to get your feet wet in the field of competitive surfing. Professional judges with a lot of humor oversee the day's heats, and in the afternoon, we will hold an award ceremony for the day's winners. GREAT trophy's & memorabilia for participants.

The ART AUCTION includes photography, paintings, jewelry, mosaics and multi-media works from locally acclaimed artists such as Walter Iooss, Peter Beard, Dalton Portella, Victor Kerpel, MJR Photography, Marcie Honerkamp and many, many more. This is a GREAT way to pick up beautiful, ocean-based art for your Hampton's home at less-than-gallery prices.

Our RAFFLE PRIZES include items from local retailers and gift certificates from local restaurants. All items are GENEROUSLY donated from our community to help raise funds for a local family who needs our help.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

This makes us here at the Endless Bummer New York No Surf Surf Blog of Champions Headquarters Art Gallery so happy our noses are collectively bleeding, a production that will of course be send to the blood bank of Yoko Ono's choice as she is now, officially, our favorite surfer.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Mike Hynson was the second-most polarizing 1960s surfer, behind Mickey Dora. Those who would kneel before Hynson and kiss the ring on his well-manicured hand were roughly equal in number to those who would’ve liked to see his privileged little ass get kicked from Windansea to Big Rock and back. Hynson’s mid-decade peak in popularity was a few years before my time, but given a choice I would’ve sat in the bleachers and watched the ass-kicking. Dude was too good-looking, too rakish, too entitled for his or anybody else’s good. A living smirk. It’s no strain on the imagination to think of Hynson, had fate aimed him just a half-degree to the right, lazily tormenting pledges at a house on Frat Row.
Yet there is much about Hynson to admire. In fact, never mind everything I just said. Angels sing whenever I watch Hynson in full trim at Cape St. Francis. He was also a gifted, innovative board designer and an immaculate craftsman. And the style sense! Off the charts. Hynson was the best-dressed surfer of the 1960s, hands down. Ray-Ban beach-casual perfection during the Endless Summer years; paisley-and-fur pimp-stoner flights of fancy by the end of the decade. His challengers never made it higher than the tops of Hynson’s calfskin-suede ankle boots.
Hynson turns 72 on June 28, and at this point it’s impossible to not admire his Keith Richards-like durability. Given the periods of homelessness, the prison time, and the copious drug use, Hynson made it to his senior years looking like a million bucks. Nice and trim. Fantastic head of head of hair. Sharp blue eyes peering out from that antique-leather face.
There is something to be said, too, for the way Hynson has modulated his way of being in the world, yet retained some essential part of his being. Consider, for example, Hynson’s long and mostly-fraught relationship with Bruce Brown. Hynson originally loved the star status that Brown, through The Endless Summer, conferred upon him. Then Hynson went rogue (“The whole ego trip from The Endless Summer was pushed off a cliff as soon as I dropped acid”), and eventually he sued Brown for a share of the profits. The case, rightly so, went nowhere. But Hynson had, and still has, reason to be at odds with the filmmaker. Brown is often credited as the one who discovered “the perfect wave” at Cape St. Francis, when in fact it was Hynson. In general, Hynson’s version of events during The Endless Summer shoot is considerably different from the G-rated version presented in the film. Hynson was on the run from the draft board, for starters. He was also speeding on Benzedrine, and getting laid in every port of call. Endless Summer was billed as a documentary, and made millions. Bruce Brown was lauded as the barefoot tousle-haired family-friendly surf-world auteur. Hynson, meanwhile, on his way to obscurity and worse, was calling bullshit on the whole thing—but nobody was listening. He fumed over this for decades. Finally, after realizing Bruce had won, Hynson did the right thing and let it go.
More or less. Reading his 2009 autobiography, Transcendental Memories of a Surf Rebel, I laughed out loud as Hynson recalled his first visit to India, in 1967. “Bombay didn’t disappoint. Every street corner was filled with holy people meditating, and each god had a different origin. Cows and lambs, cats and dogs, you name it, India has a god for it. I walked away with the knowledge that God comes in many forms and not one of them looks like Bruce Brown.”
That stylish little poison arrow comes complete with slicked-back hair and Ray-Bans.

For the month of July#SummerHouseNYC brings together locally-made independent surf-inspired brands including ROSELitems and AllSwell journals.

All the products are responsibly made from high quality materials and many are produced locally in New York. In support of Surfrider Foundation NYC Chapter, Summerhouse will be donating 10% of sales to the organization’s environmental and educational programs at Rockaway Beach, which was made possible through the support of Howard Hughes Corporation.

This entire site ⓒ 2016 EndlessBummerNY. Original photographs, drawings, videos and surfy thoughts herein, unless otherwise noted, are copyrighted by the contributors. No part of this site, or any of the content contained herein, may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without express permission of the copyright holder(s).